and rolled down the nearly thirteen-thousand-foot-long landing strip, chasing its own lengthening shadow. In seconds, it lumbered past the hangars and revetments holding F-16s that belonged to New Mexico's 150th Air National Guard Fighter Wing. Still slowing, it passed camouflaged concrete-and-steel ordnance bunkers, which had been used to store strategic and tactical nuclear weapons during the Cold War.
Near the western end of the tarmac, the enormous Russian-made Antonov cargo aircraft turned off onto a freight apron and rolled ponderously to a complete stop beside a much smaller corporate jet. The shrill noise of its engines died away. Seen up close, the Nomura Pharma-
Tech-owned plane dwarfed the group of reporters and cameramen waiting to record its arrival.
The An-124's sixty-foot-high rear cargo ramp whined open, settling heavily on the oil- and jet fuel-stained concrete. Two crewmen in flight suits walked down the ramp, shading their eyes against the bright sunlight. Once on the ground, they turned and began using hand signals to guide the drivers slowly backing a convoy of vehicles out of the Condor's cavernous cargo bay. The mobile DNA analysis labs promised by Hideo Nomura had arrived.
Nomura himself stood among the journalists, watching his support crews and medical technicians quickly and calmly preparing to make the short drive to Santa Fe. Their efficiency pleased him.
When he judged that the media had all the footage they needed, he signaled for their attention. It took some time for them to refocus their cameras and make sound checks. He waited patiently until they were ready.
"I have one other major decision to announce, ladies and gentlemen," Nomura began. "It is not one I have made lightly. But I think it is the only sensible decision, especially in view of the terrible tragedy we all witnessed yesterday." He paused for dramatic effect. "Effective immediately, Nomura PharmaTech will suspend its nanotechnology research programs - both those in our own facilities and those we fund in other institutions around the world. We will invite outside observers into our labs and factories to confirm that we have halted all our activities in this scientific field."
He listened politely to the frenzied clamor of questions aroused by this sudden announcement, answering those that seemed best suited to his purposes. "Was my decision prompted by the demands made earlier this morning by the Lazarus Movement?" He shook his head. "Absolutely not. Though I respect their motives and ideals, I do not share the Movement's bias against science and technology. This temporary halt is prompted by
simple prudence. Until we know exactly what went wrong at the Teller Institute, it would be foolish to put other cities at risk."
"What about your competitors?" one of the reporters asked bluntly. "Other corporations, universities, and governments have already invested billions of dollars in medical nanotech. Should they follow your company's lead and halt their work, too?"
Nomura smiled blandly. "I will not presume to dictate what steps others should take. That is a matter for their best scientific judgment, or perhaps more appropriately, for their consciences. For my part, I can only assure you that Nomura PharmaTech will never put its own profits ahead of innocent human life."
Boston, Massachusetts
Big, bullheaded James Severin, the chief executive officer of Harcourt Biosciences, watched the CNN tape of Hideo Nomura's interview come to an end. "That sly, shrewd Japanese son of a bitch," he murmured, half in grudging admiration and half in outrage. His eyes blinked angrily behind the thick lenses of his black-framed glasses. "He knows his company's nanotech projects are way behind everybody else's work - so far behind that they've got no real chance of catching up!"
His senior aide, just as tall but about one hundred pounds lighter, nodded. "From what we can tell, Nomura's people lag our researchers by at least eighteen months. They're still sorting out basic theory, while our lab teams are developing real-world applications. This is a race PharmaTech can't win."
"Yeah," Severin growled. "We know that. And our friend Hideo there knows it. But who else is going to see what he's up to? Not the press, that's for sure." He frowned. "So he gets to pull the plug on failing projects that have been costing his company an arm and a leg while masquerading as a selfless corporate white knight! Sweet, isn't it?"
The head of Harcourt Biosciences shoved his chair back, pushed him-
self heavily to his feet, and went over to stare moodily out the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office. "And that little stunt by Nomura just revved up the public and political